Runaway Heiress

Aldeborough lounged at his indolent ease in the corner of his travelling coach, braced effectively against the violent lurching with one foot on the opposite cushion, as he covered the short distance to Aldeborough Priory. He closed his eyes against the lurking headache.A dense shadow, darker than its surroundings, stirred on the floor in the far corner of the coach. The moon fleetingly illuminated a flash of pale skin.Was he asleep? Frances was pinning all her hopes on it. In spite of her impulsive flight from the Hall, without possessions except for the clothes she stood up in, and certainly without any forethought, she had chosen the coach with care. It had just been possible for her to make out the shield on the door panel in the glimmer from the flickering lamps -- to distinguish a black falcon rising, wings outspread in flight, a glitter of golden eyes and talons on a vibrant azure field. It had to be Aldeborough -- and he would be the means of her escape from Torrington Hall for ever. She shifted slightly to ease her cramped limbs, trying to breathe shallowly, to still the loud thudding of her heart that seemed to echo in her ears. If only she could remain undiscovered until they arrived at the Priory, she would have a chance to make her escape. And no one would be the wiser. No one would follow her and force her...The Marquis moved restlessly. Frances shrank back into her corner, tensed, rigid, until his breathing relaxed again. She wriggled her spine against the edge of the hard cushion. It promised to be a long journey. She closed her eyes in the dark.Suddenly a hand shot out with astonishing speed to grasp the folds of her cloak and pull her violently from floor to seat where the grip transferred itself like a band of steel to her arm. She gasped at the pain from that pressure on her previous injuries and failed to suppress a squeak of shock and outrage at such manhandling."What the hell...'" Aldeborough drew in his breath sharply, reining in his impulse to strike out at the intruder with vicious blows to head and body as he realised his initial mistake, and he tucked a pistol back into its pocket behind the cushions. He laughed softly. "Well, now. Not an opportunist footpad after all. A lady, no less. I knew my luck was still in. What are you doing in my carriage at this time of night -- or morning, as I suppose it now is?""Running away, sir." It would be safer, Frances decided, to stick to the truth as much as she was able. Her voice held a touch of exhaustion, which she could not disguise, strained with other tensions that he could only guess at."Ah. From Torrington Hall, I presume. Do you work there?""Yes, sir. In the kitchens." 'And do you suggest that I should turn the coach around and return you to your employers? Would they welcome such an open-handed gesture from me? I doubt it." He mused on his reluctance to return to Torrington Hall, to put himself out for an errant kitchen wench."No, sir." She tried to keep the fear that he would do exactly that from her voice. "I doubt it would be worth your while. I...I am only a servant and will not be missed.""If not, why did you find it necessary to hide in my coach? There appears to be some logic here that escapes me. Do you suppose it is the brandy that is impairing my thought processes?" he enquired conversationally. "Undoubtedly, sir." 'So what do I do with you now?" 'You could take me to the Priory, sir." She sank her teeth into her bottom lip as she awaited his answer."I could. That would be the easiest course of action. I could hand you over to Mrs -- Devil take it! I have forgotten her name -- my housekeeper. It would be far better to work for me at the Priory than for Torrington, I would wager.""It could not be worse, sir." Her agreement was low, little more than a whisper. He almost missed her words.There was silence for a short time as Aldeborough contemplated his unexpected travelling companion."Come and sit besO'Brien, Anne is the author of 'Runaway Heiress ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373294114 and ISBN 0373294115.